


A Little Snow

by versions91



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, Gift Giving, Humour, MI6 Secret Santa, Multi, OC POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8906611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versions91/pseuds/versions91
Summary: Every intern wants to impress the boss. Only one gets the impossible task to impress the Boss of Bosses with a ten-pound budget.





	

I want this job. I know I won’t be Evan Spiegel, but I'll be working for _M-I-fucking-six_. I think that’s cool. Yeah, Shiv is making splashes in Silicon Valley and getting married to a nice Indian girl, yeah, I’ll be better paid in consulting, and yeah, no one in the entire extended family will have a clue about what I do, but _I_ will be handling _national security_. Top-secret matters, like I’m a _spy._

I like Q Branch. People there are brilliant, and friendly. Lots of red tapes and waiting if you try to involve another department, but not much within the branch. Boss changed a couple of things. Boss is cool. Pantry gossip of the month is whether Mr. Bond, who was a big deal when he was 007, is living with Boss, because Jensen apparently saw a six-foot-tall blond man in a long coat walking Boss to the Magic Gate seven in the morning. 

“That could be anyone.” Meghna arches her eyebrows.

Meghna is pretty. And smart, and nice, kind of. She’s maybe just over thirty; no ring. It's implausible, but one can dream.

“Trust me.” Jensen is full of shit.

“You were outside before seven, then you walked in here with your bag around eight. Why is that?” Meghna tilts her head, her deep, brown eyes suddenly gleaming like a knife's edge. Jensen shrinks. I love Meghna.  


  


* * *

  


Secret Santa? Sounds fun. Who doesn’t like gifts? But I’m not fooled. Like everything else that has come our way during the internship, this is a test, and there’s little to gain and a lot to lose. 

Well, if I get Meghna, I get a chance to impress her. It's a slim but existent possibility.

On a fateful Wednesday we draw the lots. I hold my breath, stick a hand in a pound-store Santa hat, pull out a piece of paper, unfold it, and see the letter “M“—

And nothing else. 

Oh, _fuck._  


  


* * *

  


This is so unfair. I don’t even celebrate Christmas!  


  


* * *

  


First night I came home from my internship, I told Ma I work for the government in IT, which is true enough.

“My boss is really smart, he looks like he’s twenty-five.”  
“Twenty-five? Does he know what he’s doing?”  
“He does. And his boss looks like Voldemort.”  
“Vivek!”  
“It’s true!”  


  


* * *

  


Ten pounds. It can’t be too personal. I’m a hacker, not a _stalker._ Something that would not be offensive. Something seasonal? Something related to tea? Something British?

“If you buy a Union Flag mug, it’ll go into Head Office's cupboard as a spare."

I swear, that woman has sixth sense. I straighten myself. "Madam."

“It’s not sixth sense. I'm just perceptive.” R flashes a shallow dimple and scrunches her eyebrows in a quick glance towards my desk.

“Q decides whether you’re hired. Don't think too much about it.” She raps on my desk twice with her knuckles and then walks away, heels of brown oxfords knocking on hard floor.

(How does she ...?)

I look down and see a cloud of words on my notepad, at its heart a question underlined: 

"What does Gareth Mallory want for Christmas?"  


  


* * *

  


He's a mythical creature, you know? A power behind a cipher. Except I ran into him in the men's bathroom once. We, peed together?  


  


* * *

  


It’s Thursday, and Boss is in a nice blazer. Not a cardigan, not a full suit, which according to established wisdom in Q Branch means he has a date. The pantry is undecided over who the lucky person is. R, who has an unspoken informational advantage over everyone else, always shrugs and leaves us to speculations, betraying nothing. Anyway, the point is, Boss has left the building by seven.

Excellent timing. I get cracking on MI6's employee database. While that is loading, I stretch my wrists and lean back in my chair. Steve is in the corner monitoring Rainbow, 009’s kill mission in Morocco. Meghna is here. Oh, she sees me. 

“Vivek? Why are you staying behind?” She speaks from several desks away, raising her voice. 

"It's a secret!" I pop up and mouth silently.

"It's not. You look like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing.” She says, voice now hushed. "Just talk to Eve." 

"Eve?"

She rolls her eyes, then throws a pointed look at her monitor. So I follow suit and look at mine.

Meghna P. (Q-2031): Moneypenny, M's secretary. [Moneypenny, Eve]  
Meghna P. (Q-2031): Meet her 3pm tomorrow at Starbucks with a double-shot latte and an apple cinnamon muffin (heated). Say it's Meg.  
Meghna P. (Q-2031): Now you go home.

(How does she…?)

  


* * *

  


"He lost his corkscrew." 

Miss Moneypenny is tall, lean and wears an easy, disarming smile. It warms and deepens at the mention of _Meg._

"So, that's what he needs." She sips from her cup, then looks back at me, gently, "But you're not asking the right question."

"What do you mean?" 

"It's not about what he needs, or wants." 

Before we leave Starbucks, she orders a triple-shot flat white for Meghna. I take with me the coffee (Is it a coded message? We’re in the business of espionage, after all) and something about M. He likes animals, skiing and snow.  


  


* * *

  


On Christmas day there will be, on M's office bookshelf, a palm-sized snow globe on a rosewood base. There is a miniature MI6 building in the middle, a red-nosed reindeer on the left, a tiny bunny in front, and a white-tipped mountain in the back. I’m proud of it. It would sell at MI6's employee gift shop, if there is one.

Ma thinks I'm courting a white girl and I tell her, this is for the Big Boss, "Voldemort, remember?" 

She gives me such a rare expression of horrified confusion, I don't ruin it by clarifying. 

Boss wiggles his nose when he smells tea ready. Meghna holds the flat white with crinkling eyes. People who can deploy destruction at their fingertips like small things too, I come to realise.

"It's about what makes him smile." 

I hope a little snow does.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the MI6 Secret Santa assignment, from a Q Branch intern to Mallory. Many thanks to [Boredpsychopath_JC](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredPsychopath_JC/) for beta-ing. All mistakes remain mine. 
> 
> This has been quite a challenge, as I don't write OCs very often. Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it! Happy holidays! :)
> 
> p.s. If you want to, come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://monologues91.tumblr.com)! x


End file.
